Even in the good times we have to remember to breathe. Slowly and deeply. We push the blessings away during the good times because we, ok I'm talking about myself, I get afraid that I don't deserve good times. And so I wait, and impatiently I might add, for the other funky shoe to drop. And because Life doesn't want to disappoint me, it drops. Funkily.
I accept goodness for myself. I accept love and happiness. I accept peace and joy. And I get to say.
Black ass poems. Black ass stories. Black ass art. Black ass life. Black ass love. Black ass hate. Black ass parenting. Black ass depression. Black ass mania. And other stuff too.
No comments:
Post a Comment